


Details Of The War

by Neutralmilkhoe



Category: Avengers, Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: (brief) stucky, Cheating? Maybe?, Creative usage of medical equipment?, First work - Freeform, Identity Porn, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Modern AU, Non-powered AU, Secret Identity, Semi-Public Sex, Steve Is Depressed, Steve is a turbovirgin basically, Stony - Freeform, Tony is a doctor, doctor! Tony, out of character at some points, tony is actually redeemable in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-27 08:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20757449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neutralmilkhoe/pseuds/Neutralmilkhoe
Summary: Laid-back professional was an oxymoron. If Steve knew one thing, it was that.Still, Steve needs a doctor, and Dr. Stark “call-me-Tony” is just that, no matter how much of a mess his home life is, so Steve will have to learn to compromise.





	1. Call Me, Tony

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! It’s not amazing, but it’s here. 
> 
> I took heavy inspiration from Waitress and a couple other fics I’ve seen on here. 
> 
> TW for chapter one: antidepressants, depression, alcoholism, group therapy, mentions of war, unhealthy relationships (?) 
> 
> I put everything that anyone might be sensitive to for good measure, stay safe out there y’all! Shoot me a comment if there’s a trigger I haven’t mentioned up here.

“Call me Tony.” 

Laid-back professional was an oxymoron. If Steve knew one thing, it was that. Despite growing up dirt-poor, etiquette was one of his mother’s core values. Not in an entirely stuffy way- but good, proper etiquette. He could shake hands, sit up straight, and small talk circles around anyone. Code-switching was practically second nature to him, though now the Brooklyn accent and lax posture only appeared once in a blue moon- when he was drunk or tired, usually. He was proper now, more captain America than Steve, which was why Dr. Stark call-me-Tony didn’t sit well with him. 

Steve adjusted his posture on the paper-covered bed. God, when was the last time he’d seen a doctor? His parents couldn’t pay up as a kid, and in the army he didn’t have the need for one. Now that he was with SHIELD, and under their incredible coverage, he could have regular checkups. 

“I’m depressed.” Steve told him, avoiding eye contact completely. Call-me-Tony wasn’t entirely the person he’d like to be telling. It was the end of the check-up. They’d already gone through the usual: Steve’s blood pressure, his heartbeat, and an incredibly awkward prostate exam. Somehow, though, Steve was looking forward to this the least. 

Tony hardly responded. “You’re with SHIELD?” He asked, opening up some file on his computer. He had this relaxed posture that bothered Steve so much, hair barely swept back, perpetually messy, and these /eyes/. He was handsome, Steve could admit that, at least. Still, the ring that gleamed on his finger told Steve that he was painfully unavailable, and aside from that he was very much not Steve’s type. 

For one, he was a guy. 

“I can’t answer that.” Steve said, plainly. If he had a penny for everything he couldn’t answer, he could get a better doctor. 

Tony’s brow furrowed in frustration. “But you’re a vet.” He said, continuing to prod. “You can at least answer that.” 

“Like... for animals?” Steve thumbed a small rip in his jeans. That was called avoidance. His SHIELD-mandated therapist didn’t appreciate it, and apparently neither did Tony, because he was burying his head in his hands. 

“Jesus fuck, work with me here.” 

“Afghanistan. Honourable discharge. I got home this year.” Steve said, hesitantly. “I don’t like to talk about it.” 

Tony nodded. “I bet you don’t.” He said, still casual as all hell. “I’m not giving you meds.” 

Steve’s stomach dropped, like he was riding the worlds highest roller coaster. This was the first time in his life that he could pay for medication and he wasn’t allowed to. It must’ve been some kind of sick joke.

“Why not?” He blurted. He was usually quicker on his feet than this, but he was completely taken by surprise on this one. 

Tony scoffed. “C’mon,” he rolled his eyes, as if the answer was obvious. “Giving pills to a depressed veteran? Do you want me to push you off a nine storey building while I’m at it?” 

Steve’s face flushed. “I’m not that kind of depressed.” 

“Nobody’s that kind of depressed until they are.” He replied, insistent. “Nothing against you, but I’m not getting my medical license revoked because of this.” 

“C’mon.” Steve begged. He /needed/ this. He needed to be alright, to perform to the best of his ability, to make everyone at SHIELD happy, to land an early retirement and a cottage far away from civilization. “You can keep close tabs on this. I can update you. I’ll take the recommended dose and stop cold turkey if it makes me want to... y’know...” 

“Kick the oxygen habit? Buy the pine condo? Cash your chips?” 

“Kill myself.” Steve corrected. He didn’t care for any euphemisms right now. Better to put it simply, anyways. He’d stared down death enough times to address it by it’s proper name. 

Tony gritted his teeth, and Steve could tell that he was about to make a rash decision. He let out a laboured breath. “Fine.” He broke, quickly typing out the prescription. It was probably automatic for him, being in such a close proximity with SHIELD headquarters. Something told Steve that he prescribed a lot of antidepressants. 

Then, Tony turned to him, pulling a business card out of the stand on his desk and flipping it over. He scrawled out a number on it. 

Steve took it, turning it over suspiciously in his hand. 

“My personal number. For your questions, concerns, and updates.” Tony explained. “If this goes off the rails, call me.” 

“I think I’d rather call my therapist.” Steve said, but tucked the card into his front pocket nonetheless. 

...

On Tuesdays, Steve went to group therapy at the community centre. From what he could tell, a few groups met on Tuesday. His focused on trauma and loss. 

It was hard for Steve to find people with similar life experiences, so this felt important. He belonged, in some twisted way. There was Cindy, who’s sister had been missing for thirteen years, David, who’s wife and child had died in a car crash the year previous, and Kara, who’d seen her childhood best friend shatter her skull on a rock while kayaking. They weren’t quite friends in the traditional way, because Steve had learned Kara’s deepest trauma the first time they’d spoken, and learned that she worked as a librarian a month later. Still, he’d seen these people at their lowest and still chosen to befriend them, so maybe that was saying something. 

Lexapro was a random selection, as far as Steve knew. At this point, it was trial and error. Steve would have to wait a few weeks to see if the 10 milligrams a day he was given actually /worked/, and if it didn’t, he’d be forced to start the whole process over again. Hopefully, though, this one would go off without a hitch so that he’d be able to avoid Dr. Stark for a little bit longer. So far, all he was feeling was the slight drowsiness and irritating dry mouth. He wasn’t exactly worried about the rest of the symptoms. He wasn’t sleeping anyways, so he wouldn’t notice insomnia. He’d faced plenty of nausea throughout his life for many different reasons, so it wasn’t high on his list of concerns. 

He wondered if decreased sex drive would actually be beneficial. It wasn’t as if it would have an effect on his current lifestyle. It would certainly keep him out of any awkward situations.

He usually arrived at group therapy early and sat in the hallway with a book, sometimes people watching, sometimes just conjuring up the courage to say what he wanted to get across at that session. Today, he had fairly good news- the antidepressants- so there wasn’t exactly a need to hype himself up about anything. So he laid his book half-open on his leg and let his mind wander for a moment, definitely feeling the drowsiness. 

“Steve?” 

Steve blinked, only to come face to face with the one person he’d hoped to never see again. Dr. call-me-Tony Stark. He was standing beside Steve’s bench, leaning against the wall as if to indicate that he wanted a conversation rather than a passing hello. 

“Dr. Stark.” Steve responded. Steve hoped that they weren’t in the same group. It was enough to have to see him whenever he had a health concern. “What are you /doing/ here?” 

Tony’s eyes flickered towards the floor for a moment, his shoulders stiffening just slightly. Hesitant. “AA. Down the hall.” 

That sure as hell woke Steve up. From the surface assumptions he’d made, Tony was completely laid-back. Maybe that was why he irritated Steve so much- because he didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Now, though, he felt a passing pang of sympathy for the man. He was struggling with /something/. Something big, Steve had to admit. 

“That’s... tough. I’m glad you’re taking the steps to improve.” Steve said, and while he hated Tony, it was genuine. Steve had witnessed addiction firsthand. He’d seen withdrawal and relapse and the denial people went through before getting help. “How long have you been sober, if you don’t mind me asking?” He figured that it was a somewhat intrusive question, but then again, Tony /had/ had his hand up Steve’s ass, so he figured that he wasn’t taking anything too far. 

“Two weeks.” Tony muttered, glancing away again. “It used to be a month, but-“ 

“It’s difficult. I’m not judging you.” Steve said, encouragingly. A smile played at the corner of his mouth. “I, for one, think two weeks is a pretty good place to start.” 

Tony sat down next to Steve, unprovoked. He tucked one foot up onto the bench to rest it in between them. Steve didn’t exactly know how to feel. For one, Tony wasn’t as bad as he thought. Still, ‘not as bad as he thought’ wasn’t an accomplishment by any means. The bar was on the ground, and he’d managed to walk over it. Not exactly a reason to get buddy-buddy with Tony just yet. 

“Yeah, but one month wasn’t a good place to finish.” Tony shook his head, seeming more bothered by it than he was likely letting on. Then, seemingly out of the blue, he perked up, looked Steve straight in the eyes with that /idiotic/ smile. “Speaking of finishing, how’s the Lexapro treating you?” 

Steve had to admit, it took him a moment. When he did understand it, he wasn’t impressed. “Really?” Steve said, messing up his face in disapproval. He made a point to scoot away from him on the bench. 

“It’s a joke, Rogers. Did you think I was /that/ interested in your sex life?” He chuckled. 

It was Steve’s turn to avoid eye contact. His face was definitely red. “There’s not much there to be interested in.” He said, hoping that a joke would alleviate some of the awkwardness from the situation. 

Tony’s smile faded, just a little. “You’re shitting me.” 

Steve shrugged, as if this was old news. 

“You don’t date?” Tony asked. Assuming, wrongfully, that the problem must’ve been an unwillingness to be intimate. Steve /wanted/ it, of course. The time was just never right. 

“I don’t date well.” Steve chuckled, Tony’s energy amusing him. “There just aren’t that many people- or things- that I want. Really want.” He confessed. 

“Did you? Before?” Was Tony’s natural response, having never stopped being Steve’s Doctor. 

“Did I what?” Steve was still mid-laugh, eyebrow cocked in confusion. 

“Did you want?” It was muttered, like a secret between them. 

Steve /did/ want, before Afghanistan. His feelings were ferocious. They ate him alive, most of the time. Debilitated him. When he wanted, it filled his whole body, head to toe, with a fiery urgency. When he was sad, it overcame him. Everything was more vivid back then. 

He’d wanted Bucky, those years ago. Thinking of it now hurt him, but he distinctly remembered it: an unwavering hunger that existed just for him. 

“Too much, yeah.” Steve shook his head slowly. 

“It’s not always a good thing.” 

“You’d know,” Steve said, before drawing back in a silent apology. Was that too far? And then, before Tony could react: “god, I’m sorry.” 

Tony shook his head, clearly amused. “For what? That was the first attempt at humour I’ve heard from you.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, realizing that he was /joking/ with Tony. It was embarrassing. He was thankful when he saw Kara approaching. That woman was a godsend. When she practically scooped Steve up, he dismissed himself with a brisk: “See you later!” Although he hoped he wouldn’t. 

“Who was that?” A puzzled expression had folded itself into Kara’s freckled face. She was the kind of girl who’d get ID’d until she was well into her thirties. 

Steve scoffed, trying to play everything off, and failing miserably. “My doctor, actually. I was saving this for the meeting, but I’m trying out antidepressants.” 

Kara scooped him into a tight hug. It was a sight to behold, her hardly able to wrap her thin arms around his frame. He gave a quick laugh, and gave into the gesture. Kara was an incredibly affectionate person, which made two of them. 

When she let go, she was wearing a huge, goofy smile. “You’re kidding me! That’s great!” And then, a sly smile crossing her lips: “he’s cute.” 

Steve scrunched up his nose in disgust, pivoting away from her. “Jesus. He’s also married. And an idiot.” 

By the look on her face, Kara was pondering weather to continue teasing Steve or drop the subject entirely. She chose the latter, since the meeting was about to begin and they were no longer the only people in the room. Steve was relieved, to say the least. 

...

Other than his encounter with Tony, Steve’s week was fairly uneventful. He’d go to work at SHIELD, return home, order himself some food (he rarely had the motivation to cook, and when he did, it was more often than not a disaster.) then, he’d turn on some music, flip open to a random page in his book, and fall asleep on his couch. The Lexapro didn’t seem to be having much of a positive effect on him. In fact, it didn’t seem to be having an effect at all. It was hard to tell day-to-day if he was getting worse, but he certainly wasn’t getting better. He’d originally wanted to wait it out, but by the time the weekend started it was clear that the medication was doing more harm than good. So, hesitantly, he called Tony. 

...

Tony’s phone lit up on his bedside table, adding to what little light was already in the master bedroom. He made a quick glance, checking the number, than peeled himself away from Pepper, who he’d been intertwined with preceding the call. 

She groaned in protest, eyes following Tony as he stood, for lack of a better word, stark naked, taking the phone from the table. 

“It’s for work.” He muttered, although the look in Pepper’s eyes conveyed the fact that she definitely didn’t believe him. 

“That’s getting old, Tony.” 

He shook his head, putting off whatever argument she was starting until after the call, and excused himself from their room. Well, his room. Pepper was more of a temporary fixture. Always seemed to be. They’d prayed for it to work this time, and while some of it did (the sex, specifically), the rest left a lot to be desired on both ends. Of course, not many people knew. In fact, both parties families were under the impression that their marriage was infallible. That they’d been together since their vows. That Tony wasn’t sleeping with other people more often than not. 

“Tony Stark,” Tony said, finally picking up, exhaustion easily detectable in his voice. 

“Hey.” Steve replied, seemingly tired as well. “It’s not working.” 

“It’s been- what? A week, Steve?” Tony replied, recognizing his voice. “These things take time. It often gets worse first.” 

“I’m not... I have to work tomorrow, Tony.” Sure, Tony knew he worked at SHIELD, but that could mean a lot of things. Steve was sure Tony didn’t understand the gravity of his job. Steve himself didn’t, half the time. 

“So do I. Getting midnight calls from patients definitely isn’t helping my chipper demeanour, I’ll tell you that.” Tony said, free hand massaging his temples. He’d settled in the lab across from his bedroom, strewn across a couch that he’d pushed in the corner of the room some years ago. “Wait five days.” He said, decidedly. 

“I feel like shit.” Steve protested. “You said-“ 

“I said wait five days.” Tony responded, firmly. “If it’s an emergency, that’s a different story. So unless you’re standing on the edge of your balcony right now, don’t waste my time.” 

“You’re lucky that I’m not.” Steve replied, although Tony’s remark was way out of line. “I didn’t mean to... waste your time. You told me to call. I called.” Steve said, voice softening. 

Tony withdrew for a second, sighing. “Four days.” He ran a hand through his hair, realizing how ridiculous this whole situation was. How idiotic he was acting. To a patient, of all people. “Sorry. I’m not in the best spirits right now, honestly.” 

The line was silent for a moment. “I can tell.” A low blow, especially from Steve. And then: “anything you want to talk about?” 

Tony hated the idea of Steve acting as an impromptu therapist, but talking did sound good. 

“God, you’re already depressed.” Tony remarked. “It’s... marital. Nothing you could fix in a night.” 

Steve’s stomach flipped. In some sick way, he was almost happy that Tony’s marriage wasn’t perfect. It left him an opening. Not that he’d ever purposely ruin a marriage for his own benefit. If anything, there was just more room to speculate now. To daydream.

“I could try.” 

Tony laughed lightly through his teeth. He liked Steve’s enthusiasm. “Let’s just say that monogamy isn’t my cup of tea. I feel... completely trapped with just her, and Pepper- that’s my wife- hates the idea that I’m not ready for a /serious/ relationship, which is stupid, because of course I am, just not in the two kids one dog white picket fence type of way. I couldn’t live like that. Not forever. I get cold feet. Easily. Something about my dad, or the trauma, or the fact that I’m a horribly indecisive person.” 

Steve could get behind most of what he was saying. He’d never been a traditionalist, and while he could imagine being with someone for the rest of his life, he couldn’t imagine settling down. Steve wasn’t fit to be the best father, having lacked one for the majority of his life. His job was too high-risk for a pet. He’d lived exclusively in apartments- he’d have no idea what to do with a fence /or/ a lawn. Ironically enough, the American Dream wasn’t for Captain America. 

“You love her?” He asked, after a long silence. 

“In a way.” 

“But your morals just don’t line up.” Steve affirmed. 

“Bingo.” 

“Then what’s keeping either of you there?” Steve asked, now completely confused. If they weren’t good for each other, than they should have broken it off a long time ago. 

Tony shrugged, though Steve couldn’t see him. Thank goodness, too. “Sex.” That was half a joke. “And family. Friends. Divorce is no fun, and she’d bleed me dry, me being the unstable asshole I am. Did I mention that we love to argue? Court would be a disaster.” 

“Nobody said you had to get divorced.” Steve suggested. He thought that Tony was making the whole situation a lot more complicated than it needed to be. “You don’t have to be together, but you don’t have to cut each other off completely. If you miss the sex, then get together for a night or two. Your families don’t need to know. It’s not like you’d be broadcasting your hookups to them anyways.” 

“That’s essentially what it is.” Tony responded. “Not the broadcasting our hookups part. The open-relationship-because-we-both-despise-divorce part. The problem with Pepper is that she’s all or nothing. We’re either together or perfect strangers.” Tony explained. 

“Then I guess you just have to decide which option you like better.” 

To Steve, the whole thing seemed to come down to entitlement. Tony wanted too much, and he expected Pepper to give all of it to him with no consideration of how she felt. Tony didn’t seem to be interested in compromise. 

“I guess.” Tony replied, closing his eyes for a moment. He could fall asleep like this, Steve on the other line, laid back on the couch, but of course he couldn’t. Pepper would come looking for him eventually, and Steve would never agree to stay up with him. Why on earth would he want to? 

“Anyways, I should get to sleep.” Steve muttered, as if on cue. 

“So should I.” Tony replied, sighing as he stood up. “Hey, Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

“No problem. Anytime.” Steve said, almost surprised. Tony didn’t seem like the type of person to throw around that phrase. “See you in four days.” He continued, teasing. 

“Let’s hope not.” Tony half-laughed. After the two had said their goodbyes, he hung up, returned to his room, and prepared for the due argument to ensue. It always did. Tonight would be no exception.


	2. Zoloft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two!!! Woohoo!!!! This one isn’t as long, and I’m not entirely happy with this project, but I’m putting it out here anyways. It’s still ongoing and I plan to keep writing. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comment(s)!!! It’s been such a warm welcome to this site 💘💘💘

“Who names these things?” Steve examined the prescription, eyes narrowing in dubiety. 

Zoloft was another SSRI, which meant that it was the same class of drug as Lexapro- it apparently also meant that it was named just as strangely. He’d tapered off the old drug with little issues. A relieving conclusion to a troubling saga. 

Zoloft was meant to cover a wider range of conditions, the implications of which made Steve uncomfortable. He already despised the diagnoses his therapist had given him. Labels like depression and PTSD took him right back to his childhood, where his poor health left him unable to fend for himself. Deep down, he was scared that this would do the same. That no matter how much medication and therapy he was able to go through, his conditions would eventually cripple him beyond saving. 

“I used to.” Tony replied, chair tipping precariously, the only thing keeping him upright being his shoe catching on his desk. A health risk, Steve didn’t doubt. “Well, not antidepressants. But I’ve named more than a few patented drugs.” 

“You’re kidding.” Tony was a family doctor. A mediocre family doctor, at that. Steve had expected him to have just scraped through medical school, not patented pills. 

Tony blinked. “Doctor Stark.” He said, flatly. “Stark Pharmaceuticals. I thought you definitely would have figured it out by now.” 

It hit Steve like a tone of bricks. He almost flinched, embarrassed that he hadn’t put two and two together. 

“You’re /that/ kid! Anthony Stark!” A smile stretched across Steve’s face, excited to get a leg up on Tony. “I remember those commercials! God, what happened?” 

Tony feigned entertainment, though the whole thing, although he was beginning to regret mentioning it to Steve, who seemed all too eager to rub his childhood stardom in his face. 

The commercials had been his father’s idea. What better way to sell his snake oil than to use his own kid’s heart condition is a testimonial? Howard had forced Tony to be the spokesperson for Stark Pharmaceuticals since he’d known how to say Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy. Tony, unbeknownst to the public, had had a pacemaker implanted after his very first attack at age four. The medication Howard was pushing did nothing, and he knew it. 

Still, Tony didn’t question him. Never did. Never thought once to look into the numbers, the lawsuits, the forums. He was comfortable in the lavish lifestyle his father’s business had built him, and comfort meant compliance. Panem et circenses, was the phrase, he believed. 

Now he’d never get the chance to confront Howard at all. 

“It was bullshit.” Was the concise answer. 

Steve nodded. “I’ve heard that much.” The family’s scandals were practically common knowledge now. Sure, half of it was rumours and the other half was glorified beyond comprehension, but hidden in there was some truth. Stark Pharmaceuticals was corrupt. Howard Stark and his wife had mysteriously disappeared one night, never to be heard from again. Their son probably had more money than he knew what to do with, and would never have to work a day in his life. 

Yet here Tony was. 

“I mean in the meantime. What happened that turned that charming, cute kid into this... irritating cynic with marital problems?” Steve asked, head tilted, smile still plastered across his face. 

“Where do I start?” Tony slipped his foot off the desk, letting his chair snap cleanly against the floor. “I realized that my dad only saw my value in dollars when I was, what? Sixteen? That was around the same time that I figured out that I had enough money to do whatever I pleased. Daddy issues and trust funds don’t generally gel. I did a lot of things I wasn’t proud of, things that are forever immortalized in tabloids. Then my parents disappeared, and everything came out about the company, and I kind of... woke up, one day. Realized that I hated everything I was benefitting off of. I tried to clean up, finished my degree, and took up this job to make up for a fraction of the shit my parents did to innocent people. It’s this overwhelming guilt, y’know? That I did whatever he told me to for so many years because I didn’t give a shit. As long as I was happy, nothing else mattered. I mean, without those commercials, Stark Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t have had nearly the same impact. I have to take responsibility for some aspect of it.” 

“You had no idea was going on.” Steve blurted, too quick to comfort Tony, as if he’d been preparing his words long before Tony finished. “You were a kid. Most kids don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves. Most kids are reckless like that. Heaven knows I was.” 

Tony shook his head. “I’m tired of people making excuses for me. I should have been better. It’s as simple as that.” 

Steve shrugged, avoiding Tony’s eyes. “It’s that feeling that you’ve been on the wrong side of history this entire time.” He chimed in, the words seeming to come out of nowhere. “And you can’t really know until it hits you all those years later. Until you’re in the shower one day, or at the grocery store, and you’re suddenly just... destroyed by it all.” 

The words seemed to linger in the air a little bit longer than they should’ve. 

“But by then it’s too late.” Tony continued. 

Steve shook his head, easing himself off the chair and onto his feet. Tony’s office felt too intimate, suddenly. As if they were inches apart. “It’s never too late.” He said, and turned to leave with the prescription. 

Suddenly, there was a pressure around his wrist. His heart seemed to miss a beat, and he turned around, jerking his hand away. He relaxed immediately at the sight of Tony’s face. Sure, reacting that way was irrational, but PTSD didn’t exactly discriminate, and he refused to feel bad. 

Tony raised his hands, feigning defeat. “Should’ve known better.” He muttered. 

“Damn right.” Steve replied. Again, refusing to apologize. “What is it?” 

Tony half-laughed. “You don’t happen to be free tomorrow, do you?” 

“I’ve got an insanely unpredictable schedule.” Steve said, flatly. Why did Tony care? “But, no. I was going to train all morning, order in, and call it a night.” 

Tony shrugged, suggestively. “None of that has to change.” 

Steve glanced down at his hands, than back up at Tony, eyes wide. “Are you..?” 

“Yes!” There was something resembling desperation in his voice. 

“You’re married.” Steve reminded him. 

“That whole arrangement didn’t seem to matter when we last spoke. Four days ago you said that I could sleep with whoever I damn well pleased.” Tony shrugged, not seeming to get the memo. “If you don’t want to...” 

“I don’t.” Steve said, firmly. “I’m not.” It was half a sentence, but he couldn’t bear to say the rest. Steve was. Hopelessly and relentlessly. But Tony couldn’t know that. If he did, he’d push his buttons until he broke, and then he’d end up being the goddamn other woman in Tony’s broken marriage. 

“Completely understandable.” Tony jeered. “Forget I asked.” 

Steve doubted he would.


	3. Not-friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes on an unsuccessful date, and returns home to a voicemail from tony trying to clear everything up between them. They talk for awhile and Steve expresses his unease surrounding his time in Afghanistan, and talks briefly about his friendship with Bucky while there and how Bucky passed away. Tony comforts him in his doting way, and the two leave feeling much better than they did before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: S*icidal thoughts. Fairly brief, I’d say, but I want all of you to stay safe! 
> 
> Not much happens, but I’ll try to write a synopsis in the chapter summary in case anyone wants to skip this one. 
> 
> I just watched Spider-Man Homecoming today! It was great, probably one of my favourite Marvel movies tbh. I have a soft spot for spidey 💘💘💘💘
> 
> Anyways, hope y’all enjoy this chapter. I tried lol

“So what do you do for a living, anyways?” 

Steve was a good three quarters through this date, and he’d already gone over his exit plan three times. 

Tell her that it’s been fun, but you’re tired. 

Get on your bike.

Go home. 

Jerk off to Dr. Tony Stark’s official Facebook page. 

“That’s classified.” He smiled. It wasn’t that he hated the girl. It wasn’t that he hated any of the twenty girls Natasha had tried to set him up with. Hell, it wasn’t that he hated any of the men that Kara had picked out for him either. He would’ve been happy to settle for any of them before. But it was now. It was after. 

The war had rendered him an unsociable mess, and having half his life under lock and key wasn’t helping either. He wasn’t a citizen anymore. He was Captain America: a blushing virgin who wasn’t at all over his dead best friend, would snap your neck if you hugged him from behind, and was off on missions too much to be anything resembling a good boyfriend. 

“Is anything about you not classified?” She asked, clearly bored. Steve was a pretty face, but a horrible conversationalist. 

That was a fucking loaded question. “Only about half of it. The rest is fair game.” He shrugged, still smiling despite every muscle in his body being tensed. He hated this. 

“What about your time in the army?” She offered.

“Everything except for that.” Steve’s breath caught. You’ve barely met a man and you’re already asking about his deepest traumas. Christ. Buy me dinner first. 

She gave an awkward grin, eyes averted, lips pursed. 

“I... like your shirt.” Steve offered. 

“You told me.” Her voice was sharp. “At the start of the date.” 

The silence that followed was thick enough that Steve could’ve run straight forwards and not moved at all. 

“I’ll take the bill.” He finally muttered. 

“That’s probably a good idea.” 

...

When Steve returned home he had a voicemail. 

From Tony. 

As if this day wasn’t bad enough. 

He put the phone on speaker, and sat back to listen. 

Tony’s voice cut in. “Hey. I’m... super sorry about what happened. I thought we were on the same wavelength, but I guess I was wrong. First time for everything, huh? Anyways, I still want you to feel comfortable checking in with me about... professional nonsense. Give me a call when you can, tell me how the Zoloft is going.”

Steve buried his face in his hands, breathing deeply. He would’ve screamed if his apartment walls weren’t paper thin. Then, he picked up the phone and called Tony back. 

It rang twice. “Hey, Tony?” 

“Hey! You called!” Tony responded. Loud music bled through to the other end. “I’m actually out right now, but I can find a quiet place. Give me a second.” 

Steve nodded, even though Tony couldn’t see him. “Sure thing.” The music died down on the other end. 

“So I’m assuming the meds are working?” Tony asked, hopeful.

Steve cringed. “I stopped taking them this week.” Silence. “I feel like we’re going in the wrong direction here. I was sick the whole time and anxious as hell. It interfered too much with work for me to give it a fair shot. I couldn’t.” 

“Probably for the best.” Tony replied, nonchalant. “Steve, we’ll find something. It takes forever. I wish it didn’t, but what can we do? There’s no magic bullet.” 

Steve groaned. “A regular one’ll do.” 

Tony froze up on the other end. “Hey, don’t say that.” His voice was softer than Steve had ever heard it. 

“Well? I’ve killed people. I’ve seen people die.” Steve responded, not realizing how upset he was until now. “It doesn’t feel like such a big deal anymore. You live for a little bit, hopefully make some friends along the way, and then you’re gone. In my line of work I could die any day. Why not make it today? Why not plan it out instead of having it just... happen, all of a sudden.” 

Tony blinked. “Shouldn’t you be talking to your therapist about this?” He asked, managing a nervous laugh. “I mean, I’m not the best at advice. I feel like anything I say will inevitably make this whole thing worse. But I like having you around, Steve. I think you’re a good person, and the universe will repay you for it one of these days. And if it doesn’t? I’ll kick the universe’s ass and repay you myself.” 

“And if I’m not?” Steve proposed. 

“If you’re not what?” 

“A good person.” He muttered. “I enlisted to pay for art school. Didn’t know what the hell I was doing, just knew that I wanted to help. Then I met Bucky, and everything in my life was starting to make sense for once. We were close, but not as close as I wanted to be, and I never got to tell him that, because he died before I could. Crushed under a falling building. Nothing left of him. The worst part was that he was there trying to usher people out. It was an American bomb that killed him. And, I mean, I started thinking: if one bomb could take away my entire world, than how many worlds had I taken? Sure, there were terrorists, but there were children, too. And bystanders. People who reaped the consequences of something they had nothing to do with. If I chose to fight and I’d still gotten my heart ripped out, then what about the people who didn’t?” 

More than friends? That didn’t line up with what Steve had told him last time, about not- well, he didn’t specify what he wasn’t, but Tony thought he had a pretty good idea. He decided against asking for the time being, but decided to keep it in the back of his mind. If Steve wasn’t gay, how come he’d so desperately wanted something more with this Bucky guy? 

“Then so what, Steve?” Tony said, voice laced with anger. “There were bigger powers at play. You know that. We could argue all day about weather you did the right thing or not, but the fact is that if you hadn’t enlisted, the same people would have likely died. You weren’t some tyrannical power killing people left and right. You were a twenty something who wanted a useless art degree. You were fighting because that’s what they told you would pay. That’s what war is, Steve. It’s a whole bunch of people with ulterior motives that the government sees as easy profit.” 

“Not useless...” Steve objected. 

“If that’s the only thing you’re defending, then I might actually be doing something right.” Tony laughed. 

“I never ended up going to art school.” Steve told him. “SHIELD hired me right after I got home.” 

He remembered the day vividly. Some SHIELD agent had sat him down and told him that his talents were needed, that they had a special opening for him. He figured he’d never get another opportunity like it, and accepted. 

Not that he disliked being Captain America, just that it made everything a lot more difficult. 

“But- uh, thanks, Tony. It helps to talk it out.” Steve continued, half-smiling now. “You should probably get back to your party, huh. They’re probably looking for you.” 

“No they aren’t.” Tony laughed. “My friends aren’t much fun to be around when I’m sober, between you and me.” 

“I’m glad I’m not your friend, then.” Steve joked, testing the waters. 

“Yeah, you suck shit. That’s why I’m talking to you in the storage closet of a very classy minimansion instead of socializing with the people who invited me here.” Tony said, voice dense with sarcasm. 

Steve laughed, leaning back into his couch. “In that case, you should definitely get back to your party.” 

“If you insist.” Steve could hear him standing on the other end, and opening the door to what was supposedly the storage closet, which amplified the music severely. “I can get you an appointment at two on Sunday, if that works.” 

“Sure.” Steve agreed. He was fairly sure he wasn’t working that day. “We should talk more. As... not-friends.” He said, hoping Tony would catch the callback. 

“Sure, not-friend.” He replied. That was clever on Steve’s part, he had to admit. “Hate you.” 

“I hate you too. See you on Sunday.”


	4. Earth To Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing smut. Enjoy.

Steve hated seeing Tony, but for a different reason now. 

Tony was too heavy on his mind, consuming Steve with a want bordering on obsession. He didn’t mean to end up there, he just always did, wondering what Tony would feel like against him, if he’d tease him, if he’d make noise. He’d taken to habitually crossing his legs at boring briefings and taking long showers at night. 

Not to mention that all of this felt new to him. His sex drive had never consumed him like this. Even with Bucky, his libido had been fairly low. It wasn’t helped by the fact that he couldn’t just have sex. Especially with Tony. He’d made it fairly clear to that that wasn’t an option, and even if he hadn’t rejected his advances, he was pretty sure he’d be breaking some kind of law. 

It didn’t help that he was in Tony’s office now, spaced out while he went on about a new med that Steve hadn’t even bothered to learn the name of. 

“-and that’s about it. If you have any questions, I’m here.” Tony finished, eyes flicking back to Steve’s face. “Hey, earth to Steve.” 

Steve blinked, standing quickly. “That’s all?” 

“If you were listening, then yeah, I’d say so.” Tony stood as well, and Steve noticed for the second time how incredibly small the office was. They were so fucking close. It set every hair on Steve’s body on end. “But you weren’t listening, were you?” 

Steve ran a hand through his hair, a sigh hissing past his parted lips. “Sorry. I’ve... got a lot on my mind.” He stepped backwards. Tony mimicked his movement. 

“Anything you want to talk about?” He cocked his head, and Steve could hear the concern behind his voice. 

“Nothing bad. Just... consuming.” Yeah, that was the word. Like a boa constrictor tightening around him. Impossible to ignore. Painful. Very difficult to escape. “It’s embarrassing. You wouldn’t want to hear.” 

He could practically feel Tony’s curiosity grow. “I’m a doctor, Steve. Whatever’s going on is astronomically less shameful than the things I’ve seen.” He reassured. 

“Have you ever met someone so attractive that you just-“ Steve’s breath caught. “Can’t stop thinking about them? You try to focus, but you’re just...” 

“You’re horny, Steve.” Tony let out a full-fledged laugh. 

Tony’s bluntness made his heart kick into gear. “I don’t think-“ he started. 

“It’s no big deal. Put on some adult content and get at it.” Tony nudged him, grin displayed proudly across his face. Steve was beet red. 

“Tried.” He replied. “It’s not like that, though. It’s this exclusive kind of attraction.” 

“Then ask her out. What’s the worst that could happen?” He shrugged, still standing too close. “Either she says yes, which she will, or she says no, and we can laugh at her incredibly poor judgment together. Seriously, you’ll be fine.” 

“I can’t, Tony.” Steve was getting rather worked up, annoyed to see ever-so-casual Tony Stark inches from him, still smiling. He didn’t understand. He’d never understand. Just because it was easy for him to casually propose an idea like a one night stand to Steve didn’t mean it went the other way. Steve had hated himself over this for years. It wasn’t as if he could just flip a switch and be okay. “I can’t, because it’s you!” He blurted. 

Tony blinked. “You told me you weren’t-“ 

“That may have been a lie.” Steve’s eyes shot down, suddenly finding the tile floor extremely interesting. 

“Why?” 

A hand found it’s way to Steve’s lower back. He didn’t resist the touch. Another one on his face, stroking his jaw. This was alright as well. Hell, this was better than alright. 

“Because a lot of things.” Steve replied, incoherently. “Because I’m not supposed to be attracted to you. At all. It’s literally in my contract.” Well, technically, he wasn’t allowed to have any unapproved public relationships, but his PR team had made it very clear behind closed doors that the world wasn’t ready for a gay Captain America. Fuck that. Steve was. 

“Contract? Try the Hippocratic Oath.” Tony’s hand continued to travel up Steve’s back. 

“So, basically, this is wrong on a million levels and we shouldn’t be doing it.” Steve smirked. 

“Exactly.” Tony whispered in response. 

“We should stop, then.” He said, matching Tony’s volume.

“Oh, absolutely.” Further up Steve’s back. It was slow, painstakingly slow. Steve met him halfway, the kiss coming so naturally. 

Everything happened faster from there. Steve’s shirt came off, the door locked, and Steve was practically tossed onto that flimsy paper-lined bed. A muttered “please” from Steve was all it took for Tony to begin kissing down his chest, light at first, and then, unable to restrain himself, harder and harder. 

“Alright?” He asked, breathily, hand hooked around his inner thigh, rubbing slowly, teasingly close. 

“I’ve-“ Steve stumbled. “Never- uh-“ 

Tony’s face lit up in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“No.” His voice was firm, serious for what felt like the first time that day. 

“If you don’t want me to-“ 

“I do.” Steve interrupted. “A lot.” 

Tony nodded. “Well, the good news is that I don’t need much effort on your part.” He said, sly. That know-it-all attitude that Steve had started out hating was growing on him, and fast. “You don’t mind hickeys?” 

“Not above the collar, please.” Steve said, voice breathy, perfect. Tony almost melted then and there. 

“That’s what I thought.” He stood, pulling open the drawer beside his desk, and beginning to rummage through. “I think I might...” he trailed off, mind occupied by Steve sitting gloriously half-naked next to him. He grasped something, and pulled out a condom in triumph. 

Steve was entertained, now. “Do you always keep protection in your office?” 

Tony returned to Steve, taking a moment to respond between kisses. There were teeth now, working at Steve’s lower abdomen. He’d expected Steve to be ripped, but, god, this was another situation altogether. “As a matter of fact I do. For patients, usually, not me, but I never ruled out the possibility.” Then, a hand hooked into Steve’s belt. 

“-fuck-“ 

“Quiet.” Tony ordered, almost immediately. “I’m not getting my medical license revoked because you’re sensitive.” 

Steve nodded as his belt was unbuckled entirely. His dick was pressed against the seam of his jeans, and it already ached for Tony. Steve wished that he would hurry it along, but he wasn’t quite in a position to communicate that. 

Tony worked his way down, now, one hand sliding under Steve’s ass, the other brushing back his own hair. Steve could tell that he was practiced at this type of thing. He certainly knew how to get Steve going. 

Tony worked Steve’s pants off, teasingly slow. There was no moment of reveal- he’d already been half-naked during their first appointment, now he was fully naked. Usually prostate exams were reserved for men over fifty, and Steve was most certainly not a man over fifty. But since he hadn’t seen a doctor in what felt like a lifetime, and there was no way of knowing if he had a family history of such a thing, they’d decided to stay on the safe side. Steve had found it uncomfortable at the time, but it had alleviated some of the nerves that came with being exposed now. It was the same thing- just a lot hotter. 

“It’s not fair, by the way.” Tony muttered, other hand tentatively rubbing Steve’s thigh. 

“What’s not?” Steve replied, voice strained. He was rock hard, and Tony just happened to be eye-level with his dick. He could see, he just wasn’t responding with the desired urgency. 

“You’re fucking huge, that’s what.” He drawled, smile appearing on his face. 

“You- uh-“ Steve’s face was beet red. “You don’t have to take all of it.” 

Tony’s hand wandered to Steve’s member. Slow strokes, eyes now travelling up to meet Steve’s. Steve squirmed. This was something, at least. 

“Well, I’m going to, that’s non-negotiable.” Tony replied, happy with Steve’s reaction to the touch. Faster, now. “I just want to know how you managed all of it. Perfect body, good job, and you aren’t a complete idiot, for the most part. I just thought that god would’ve given you a micropenis to even it all out.” 

“...thanks?” Steve shrugged. “I mean, you’ve seen it before.” 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t exactly in the position to say all of this then.” Tony smirked. He rolled the condom on without breaking eye contact. 

“How often do you look at-“ 

Tony took the length of him in his mouth, giving Steve a long sought after satisfaction. 

“-Jesus Christ-“ 

He focused on the head of it now, running his tongue over the slit, his hand further down, still stroking. He took him again, head bobbing faster, and then pulled away entirely. 

“How often do I look at Jesus Christ?” He cocked his head. 

“You’re an asshole.” Steve replied, voice breathy. He employed the use of his own hand now, hating Tony but needing him at the same time. 

“Impatient. I’m getting there.” And he did, other hand overtop of Steve’s, mouth matching his speed. His tongue wrapped around Steve’s cock eagerly. Steve’s breath picked up, and he stared down at Tony through half-lidded eyes. 

“Good. God, so good, Tony.” 

“You’re blasphemous when you’re getting off, huh?” Tony said, before taking him again. Steve’s hips bucked, finally fully giving into the urge. “Easy,” Tony mused slowing down, now, to make it last. 

“Please. Just-“ Steve’s breath hitched, hips rolling rhythmically. “Let me. Tony-“ 

Tony was attending specifically to the head of Steve’s cock, now, in broad, slow licks. Steve’s eyes closed, body fully tensed. He was close, definitely, Tony could feel it. He backed off for a moment, feeling Steve squirm under him. 

“I hate you.” He said, through gritted teeth.

“You don’t mean it, doll.” Tony’s voice was small, but dripping with sarcasm. Finally, he sped up, feeling Steve release with a heavy sigh. 

Tony removed him from his mouth, stroking slowly in the afterglow as Steve came back down to earth. He leaned his head on Steve’s thigh, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses along it. 

“Good?” He asked, after what felt like forever. 

“Incredible.” Steve responded, voice barely a whisper. 

“You need to get up, now, get going.” Tony told him, voice firmer. He took the condom off for him, now heavy and dripping, and stuffed it to the bottom of the trash bin in his office. 

Steve’s heart skipped a beat, suddenly remembering where he was. He practically jumped up, pulling up his pants in a flash and tightening his belt. “I wasn’t too loud?” 

“You were good. Really good.” Tony said, standing with him, a little less graceful in doing so. 

“That was...” 

“You already said incredible. Spare me the synonyms, Rogers.” Tony laughed, watching him pull his shirt on. He glanced at his reflection in Tony’s computer screen, fixing his hair. 

“Well, I meant it. I don’t know where you learned to do that, but I don’t think my hand is a worthy contender anymore.” Steve joked. 

“I want to give you the whole spiel about calling me instead of jerking it like a sad loner, but you’re about to make my next patient super late, and I need you to get going.” Tony said, energy returning. 

“Bye, then. Thank you for that.” Steve replied, awkwardly. He went in for a hug, then pulled away at Tony’s lack of compliance. Instead, Steve pecked him on the cheek politely and showed himself out.

Tony glanced over to the bed. Amongst the mess that he’d created was Steve’s prescription. He picked it up and booked it after Steve, who was nearing the door of the waiting room. He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Tony. 

“You forgot this!” He called. 

Steve breathed a laugh, nodding. “Look at that. I suppose I did.” He took the prescription, and finally left, door slowly hissing shut behind him. Tony stood breathless in the waiting room, staring after him for much longer than he would’ve liked to admit, trying to figure out what had just happened. If one thing was for certain, it was that he needed to see Steve again, and soon.


	5. The Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for not updating in forever! Life got busy, I had surgery and spent most of this month being a blob of pain. I want to keep updating, though, and I have some exciting plot points planned!

“It’s my anniversary party next weekend. You should come. Meet the wife, that type of social bullshit. There’ll be food and drinks of that redeems it any-“

“You don’t drink.” Steve interrupted. 

“My guests do.” Tony replied, already tense enough as it was and not interested in Steve being an ass about it. “You might. You shouldn’t, actually, on this medication.” 

Steve nodded, though tony couldn’t see him over the phone. It was early, and Steve wasn’t entirely sure why Steve had called him about this, especially after a week without so much as a peep from either end. “I don’t drink.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Of course you don’t.” 

“You’re inviting me, your fucking mistress, to your wedding anniversary?” Steve said, laughing not out of humour, but genuine shock. “You’re joking, right?” 

The line was silent for a moment. “Well, she’s bringing her mistress!” 

Alright, that one got a genuine laugh out of Steve. This whole situation was so ridiculous, and the humour of it overshadowed the genuine horror that Steve felt. Maybe this was normal to Tony. Maybe he didn’t feel shame as a result of that. But the idea of cheating in any way made Steve’s skin crawl. He had to break this off, and fast. 

“Sorry, this is...” 

“A lot?” Tony butted in. It was obvious that he’d heard it before. “I know. If you don’t want this to keep going, that’s totally understandable. I’m not asking you to come as my date if you don’t want to come as my date. You can come as my friend, or my patient, or any number of things. I just don’t see why we should stop talking altogether.” 

Steve wanted to protest, but he swallowed his pride. “I’ll come as me. No weird labels or implications that this might be something it isn’t. Just... Steve.” 

“Got it.” Tony nodded. “See you then, ‘just Steve’.” 

See you then, call-me-Tony. 

The ambiguity of it all left Steve making a lot of judgement calls. Formal or semi formal? Should he bring a bottle of wine? Would Tony have any use for a bottle of wine? Should he tell anyone about his plans? 

He fussed over everything between the gym, SHIELD mandated therapy, and missions. Was a button up shirt overkill? Did a t-shirt make him look as if he didn’t care? 

He settled with the button up layered over the t-shirt, figuring that he could dress the outfit up or down depending on the tone. That wasn’t the end of it, though. What if he ran into Tony’s wife? What if Tony’s friends hated him? What if he just wasn’t cut out for being in Tony’s life? 

The weekend of the party came too quickly. Steve showed up at Tony’s door in his premeditated outfit, debating weather he should just go home while his hand hovered over the doorbell. Steve has never been to Tony’s house, though it was exactly as he’d expected it to be. Painstakingly modern, too big for two people to justifiably live in it, and an obnoxious presence on an otherwise pleasant block. Weather Steve wanted to admit it or not, he harboured a resentment for everything Tony stood for. His nonchalance was a luxury Steve couldn’t afford. His wealth and influence was a stark reminder that Steve was doing something too dangerous for his own good. Tony could let people find out, and Steve would be over like that. It scared him: the fact that he could slip up and Tony could end his career in return. 

Of course, Tony didn’t know what Steve did, and Tony was trying to be nicer, and it wasn’t as if he was shoving anything in Steve’s face. It wasn’t like that- Tony didn’t know that his status bothered Steve. People often, though no fault of their own, didn’t know how privileged they were until someone like Steve had to spell it out for them. 

He rang the doorbell. Tony answered almost immediately. 

“Hey.” He smiled, inviting Steve in. 

“Hey.” Steve looked him up and down. Jacket and t-shirt, perfectly tight jeans. So, Steve was a little overdressed, but the difference wasn’t drastic enough to notice. 

He toed off his shoes, leaving them amongst others in the front foyer. From there, the house opened up into a huge rec room that was too minimalistic for Steve’s taste, and a sliding door which led to the backyard. The party was contained mostly to the aforementioned places. 

“I saw you having your little crisis on the security camera.” Tony admitted. 

How long had he stood there? Why didn’t Tony do anything? “Oh, I-“

“Hey,” Tony shook his head, shrugging off whatever excuse Steve was about to stutter out. “I’m glad you decided to come.” 

Steve felt a wave of relief flow over him. He’d forgotten how considerate tony could be. 

He followed him into the thick of it. It wasn’t quite yet dark outside, and there were people crowded into the backyard pool and hot tub. For starters: a pool and a hot tub? How come he’d never gotten up the courage to ask Tony for a visit? 

“This is?” 

Right. His wife. 

Steve smiled awkwardly, hoping that he was coming off as warm to the woman standing in front of him. She was pretty: strawberry blonde, thin, and very delicate. She was wearing a form-fitting blue cocktail dress, which only made her look more doll-like. By the look on her face, she’d seen enough of Tony’s flings to know what was going on. 

Steve couldn’t understand why tony would take advantage of someone like her. 

“Steve. He works for SHIELD.” Tony introduced him, tension in his voice. “He’s a friend. Just a friend.” 

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” She finally stuck out a hand, which Steve shook quickly, wanting her to like him. “What department do you work in?” 

Steve didn’t work in a department. His work was more freelance: they sent him out when they needed him, and let him roam free when they didn’t. He prepared for the blurb he’d given a thousand times. 

“Classified.”

“That must make you important, then.” She nodded, flashing a quick smile. 

“Very.” Steve nodded back, more eagerly than her. 

“I’m assuming that there isn’t much you can tell me, then.” She said. 

“You’re right.” Steve said, excitement growing. “Nobody gets it! They always press further as if they’re going to be the one to break me. As if I’d tell the cashier at whole foods that I’m-“ he caught himself. 

“... that you’re?” She laughed. 

“Not great at censoring myself, apparently.” Steve responded. 

“I have to get back to my conversation at the bar.” She gestured back at the minibar. Not a great setup to have in a recovering alcoholic’s house, but what did he know? “It was nice to meet you, Steve.”

“Nice to meet you too-“ he glanced over to Tony for help. 

“Pepper. My wife’s name is Pepper.” He deadpanned. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Pepper.” He said, warmly, feeling his nerves start to melt away. If Steve could handle her, the rest of the party would be a piece of cake. He turned to Tony. “Your wife is cool!” He whispered. 

“She’s a piece of work.” Tony turned on his heel, leaving Steve no choice but to follow him. 

“Why don’t you like her?” Steve asked, shoving past Tony’s half-drunk friends. 

“I do like her.” Tony scoffed, trudging ahead. “She’s my wife. It’s complicated, Steve, and we’ve been over it.” 

“Christ.” Steve muttered. “Fine.” 

There was a silence. Tony stopped walking. “Sorry, sorry. Stressful day. I just-“ 

He was cut off by Steve, who suddenly froze, eyes locked on a woman across the room. “You know Natasha?” Oh, fuck. As much as Steve has been trying to keep his work life and his love life separate, it was clear that the two wanted very badly to mix. 

“Who?” Tony furrowed his brow, glancing back over at Steve as if he was off his rocker. 

Steve shook his head. “What does she go by with you, then? Naomi, Nadia, Nicole...”

It seemed to click. “The redhead? Natalie.” Tony nodded. “I knew she was SHIELD. Accountants don’t punch that hard.”

“Accountants?” Steve was taken aback. Natasha was living an entirely different life behind his back. But, he supposed, she could say the same for him. “You have no idea, do you?” 

“No idea about what?” And there was Nat, right on cue, approaching the two with a gleam in her eye. 

“Classified.” 

“That word is something of a defence mechanism to you, isn’t it?” Nat laughed. “I heard about the date.” 

Steve broke. “Sorry. I just- too many questions. Not my type.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” Nat shrugged, tossing back her wine. “It all makes sense now. I’m surprised I didn’t see it in the first place.” 

“I’m his doctor.” Tony butted in, attempting to dispel suspicion. 

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” 

Tony breathed out hard and fast. “Since he’s straight.” He muttered, giving Nat a look. She backed off, basking in the tense silence for a moment. 

“Anyways, we’re playing spin the bottle over there. If you care to join, be my guest.” She said, bouncy demeanour returning, bitterness underlining it. 

“What is this, middle school?” Tony said, but followed her anyways, leaving Steve no choice but to go after him. 

They settled back into a circle, an empty wine bottle tilted on it’s side in the middle. Steve sat across from Tony, Tony next to Natasha. The circle was fairly large, which watered down the chances of Steve getting someone he actually knew. 

Nat spun. A girl with a short bob. A quick kiss. 

Tony next. There was purpose in his eyes, but the end of the bottle landed right next to Steve. A taller woman with the body of a supermodel. Tony took an extra second on her. Steve was brimming with jealousy.

A man with curly hair. He’d been joking with Tony between spins. They knew each other. This time, the bottle did land on Steve. A quick kiss. Apathy. 

Then, two more people. Next, Steve. 

He took his time, trying to plot this out. With enough skill, he could land far away from Tony. He could avoid all of this.

A flick of the wrist. Eyes half-closed in anticipation. 

Tony. 

If there was one thing that would ruin him, it was this. Steve had a contract. He had a reputation. He had a whole team dedicated to making sure that he wouldn’t land himself in this situation. 

He stood up, uneasily. “I don’t think I want to play anymore.” He said. 

“Come on!” Natasha objected. “That’s not how the game works!” 

“I know.” Steve replied, firmly. “I can’t play the game how it works.” He turned, leaving the group in half-shock. 

The house was big. He had no idea where he was going. Soon enough, he was lost, locked in a bathroom somewhere upstairs where nobody would mistakenly stumble upon him. He’d wait until everyone was drunk, and then make his escape. This was how it would have to be. 

Then, a knock on the door. 

“Aren’t there like, seventy bathrooms in this place?” Steve called. “Get lost.” 

“Can I come in?” Natasha’s voice. Better than Tony, honestly. 

“Sure.” Steve begrudgingly agreed, unlocking the door, to reveal Natasha standing limply on the other side. 

“Honestly, if I’d known, I would’ve set you up with more guys.” 

“Shut up.” Steve muttered, hiding his face. 

“So why not go for it?” The question hung in the air, only interrupted by the door clicking softly behind her. “Sure, Tony isn’t your best option, but why hold back if the feeling isn’t going away.” 

“Because I have complicated emotions about relationships, my PR team won’t let me, and I was a virgin up until last week.” Steve blurted. “Because he’s my doctor, and I don’t want to be a homewrecker, and because I’m going to get caught up in this eventually, and the tabloids are going to have a blast with this one. He doesn’t even know that I’m Captain America. He’d flip out if I told him now.”

“You’re getting a PR team?” Nat joked. “Who cares. You’re into him, he’s into you. Bang it out until you get bored with each other. If the tabloids pick up on it, then he pays and it all disappears. Hell, it’s what he’s been doing for all his other affairs. Trust me, Tony has enough money to cover anyone’s tracks. Even mine.” 

“Something tells me he has.” Steve smirked. 

“A few years ago, when I needed my record wiped clean. He didn’t do it himself, just lent me the money because he trusted I was doing something right. He’s never prodded since. I know too much about his life, he knows jackshit about mine. It’s symbiotic.” 

“That’s the thing.” Steve pointed out. “He doesn’t know anything, but he still likes me. He wants to be around me. The reason none of my dates have panned out is because they all want to be with Captain America. They all like the image that’s been curated for me. Tony just likes me.” 

“Tell him.” Nat shrugged. “You’ve got nothing left to lose.” 

“Soon. I just want to go back to the party, for now.” He held the door for Nat, ushering her out of the bathroom. “Let’s salvage tonight while we still can.”


	6. Locker Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure unedited shit. I haven’t posted to this fic in a year. Not sure where I picked up the motivation for this but I’m sure that absolutely nobody cares anymore lmao. I miss each and every one of you, have some bisexual nonsense.

Steve was rehearsing his next interaction with him. It had been weeks since the party. He hadn’t seen Tony. Every time he thought about replying to his texts, his anxiety rose through the roof. There was too much to hide. Too much at stake. He couldn’t talk to his therapist, because his therapist worked for SHIELD. He couldn’t talk to his coworkers because his coworkers would fuck him over for it. He couldn’t talk to Tony, because that was the issue in the first place. 

So he went to Nat. She humoured him, and listened, and came to a conclusion. 

“Set a list. Make boundaries. If you want to be in a relationship with him, he has to follow them. If he doesn’t, give him another list. He’s a piece of work, but he needs to be commanded. Give him a project, something to work on.” She smiled. Steve still wasn’t sure about her knowing. She was a mystery to almost everyone. Who said that she wasn’t reporting all of this behind his back? 

“I’m not sure I want it to be a relationship. I couldn’t be a boyfriend. Not right now.” He remembered Bucky, the things he was never allowed to do with him, the domestic life he was never allowed. “Or ever, really.” 

Nat laughed. “Can you ever see either of us settling down? It’s just not something we do in this business.”

Steve didn’t ask to be in this business. It felt more like a demand than a request. He didn’t want Tony in that way, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t imagine it. 

“Fuck me, though, I’m not cucking this guy.”

“Language.”

“I’m serious. He has a wife. Complicated or not, she’s his wife. I keep picturing her. Interrupts every fantasy. And I like her, too. I don’t want her as a third, but I’d be crushed if she ever hated me. She’s sweet, and intelligent, and much more agreeable than him.” Steve cringed, looking back up for Nat’s approval. “They need to be broken up for good before I can even think of him that way.” 

“Pepper fucking rules.” Nat laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re right, they need it sorted out. She does enjoy playing the victim, though. Probably has just as many hookups as him, just keeps it on the down low. They’re messed up people, but neither of them are innocent.” 

“And how do you happen to know?” Steve gave her the side eye, a sly smile spreading across his face. 

Nat scrunched up her face. “What? I’m not under contract, I can be as queer as I please.”

“And you are?” Steve was honestly surprised. He didn’t have any previous expectations about her sexuality, so bringing it up made him realize that holy shit, Nat was definitely into women. 

“Oh, yeah. I thought it was clear. Why else would I help you with this? Steve, this place is like a locker room. Everyone is looking straight at the floor and they’re all so god damn sexually frustrated. Nobody has been as open as me since... never. Until you. If you can say... anything, maybe everyone will pick their fucking eyes up. You, of all people. The guy in the high school fitness test. Can you imagine coming out? People would go insane.” 

“Exactly why I can’t come out to the world as gay or to him as captain America. Those worlds stay separate.” He told her, but his voice was unsure. 

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I lose my job.”

“Go rouge. Sue.”

“I get harassed by the public.”

“You’re 200 pounds of genetically modified super soldier. The worst thing they’ll do is bruise your ego.”

“There’s one more thing. I can’t explain the super soldier stuff without talking about his dad. He hates him. They hate each other. He’d kill me if he found out that he wasn’t dead, or that his snake oil funded his actual valuable scientific advances, or that he made me like... this. If he doesn’t break it off after I set boundaries, he’ll break it off when he finds out.”

“But he could cause more security issues if you don’t tell him. What if he gets curious?” Nat inquired. “Besides, we could use him here. You could give him incentive to come on. They’ve always wanted another Stark, you know?”

That surprised Steve. He could understand wanting to bring Howard on, but there was a method to his madness, but Tony? What did he have that they couldn’t already get?

“Why him?”

Nat turned his own line on him this time. “Classified”

Of fucking course. 

“Just talk to him, tell him who you are, and recruit him.” She insisted. 

“SHEILD is a fucking pyramid scheme.”

“You know it.”


	7. That Was Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of this. I’m not sure what is making me update again at this rate but I’m glad that a few of y’all enjoy. I’m too tired to write cohesive sentences anymore have some idiots with secrets

Tony had invited Steve to dinner. It was especially strange since they hadn’t really spoken since the party, but Steve needed to talk to him and he was in no position to turn down free food. He had texted him the time and place (and, thankfully, a dress code this time). All Steve had to do was show up. 

Which he did. On time and in a suit. Just as he had begun thinking that he might actually make a good domestic partner, Tony slid into the seat across from him and the anxiety set in. This was a nice place. A really nice place. What did he want to tell Steve? What was this important? 

Perhaps Steve didn’t want to find out, because he sprung into conversation.

“Listen, if we’re going to keep doing this, which I want to- I mean, I really want to, we need to set some boundaries. And I hope I’m not asking too much... no, I’m not. This is reasonable. Even if you don’t agree-“ he started. 

“Steve,” Tony interjected, softly. 

“One second. I need to do this. I don’t think you understand how important all of this is to me, and to be hidden from your wife like this, from the world...” 

“Steve,” Tony tried again, souring. 

“I don’t want much out of this, but I think I’m being reasonable when I ask that you and Pepper-“

“Steve. Listen.” It was louder this time, less patient. Tony reached across the table, clasping Steve’s hand in his. Steve felt a rush of excitement despite the circumstances. This was in a public restaurant. Tony was a b-list celebrity. They were holding hands. This had to be some teenage girl’s dream. 

“What?” 

“Pepper and I are getting a divorce. A real, public divorce.” Tony told him, eye contact unwavering. He didn’t let go of Steve’s hand. 

“Oh god. She’ll bleed you dry.” Steve remarked, almost laughing. Come on, Tony couldn’t stand to be 100% serious, even in a situation like this. 

Tony’s tone didn’t change. “It was my idea, actually. We’ve decided to be civil about it. I can only hope she stays true to her word.” He said, straightening himself in his seat. “Seeing you has made me take a lot of my life into consideration. I always seek out cold partners. It’s uncomfortable when someone gets too attached, or tries to make it out to be something it’s not. But I didn’t seek you out, and you do neither of those. You’re tender, but considerate of my boundaries. You aren’t clingy, but you care about me. It’s made me realize that I need to be considerate of you too. Of everyone I see. Ergo: divorce. The tabloids are going to have a field day. Consider it an act of charity in that way.” He smiled, letting go of Steve’s hand. The warmth was still there, though. 

Steve was over the moon. This was the best possible outcome. But there was still that heaviness in his chest, the weight of a secret that now more than ever needed to be shared. 

“Tony, that’s incredible, really.” He smiled, hardly able as the words crept up his throat. “But I need to tell you something too.”

Then, before Tony could even question him, the waiter crept up behind them to ask for drink orders. Water, for both of them. It was a simple pairing, that way. Then, the waiter was gone, and it was the two of them again. Tense silence hanging over the table. 

“Whatever you need to tell me can’t be as jarring as Pepper and I,” Tony joked. “You have to admit, you didn’t see that coming.”

Steve was quiet for much too long. His mouth was refusing to open, as if in admission that this was way too much. “Maybe it’s best that I don’t tell you here.”

“Why not? I told you mine.” 

“This is different. I have no idea how you’re going to react.” Steve was a little defensive, but had almost every right to be. 

“How I react is my own fault. Tell me.” 

Tony made a good point. He had his own reputation to uphold, and any public meltdown would fall on him, not Steve. He was safe. For now. 

Where to start? “After I got home from the war, I didn’t go to art school. I was hired by SHIELD right out of the army. You know that much.”

“That I do.”

“See, though, that isn’t all true. I’d tried to get into the army multiple times before. Art wasn’t exactly working out, and part time jobs weren’t going to pay my tuition. I was this scrawny thing, too sick, and they turned me down every time. At one point, they pulled me aside and gave me the information for this study that some shady organization was running. Told me essentially that it was this huge risky procedure, but if it succeeded I’d be able to fight and I’d never need to worry about money ever again. There was nothing left for me, you have to understand. My mom was dead, my dad had left my life fairly early on, I didn’t have a promising career or friends- I didn’t have a life to live outside of this. So I enrolled. That was where I met Bucky, in the study. This normal guy- not nearly as physically fucked up as I was- wanted to make sure that his sisters never had to grow up wondering where their next meal was coming from. He was sweet, and he liked my art. He just... showed a genuine interest in me in a way that nobody had before. The experiment was to create a series of “super soldiers”. Faster regenerating cells, stronger bodies, you get the gist. We all thought that it was a suicide mission, that none of us were going to make it through the initial experiment, much less war. We had all made peace with it. None of us really saw a life beyond that anyways. We were ready to go. I had it all planned out. I wanted to kiss Bucky on the last night. And then, incredibly, unexpectedly, it worked. We were alive. They sent us out. I’ll spare you the gory details. Seven of us went in, only one came out. Men tend to overestimate themselves like that. Not me. Perhaps if I did, he’d still be alive. In the end, they deemed the experiment a failure, and didn’t attempt anything else beyond us seven. Fortunately, my talents weren’t wasted. They caught me right during my mourning period, offered me a job that I couldn’t resist, and had me sign away the rest of my life. Gave me a kitschy title and an impenetrable frisbee, and here I am.”

For the first time in his life, Tony was stunned into shutting up. 

“I didn’t want to hide it for so long, but I honestly had no idea how to tell you. Coming out as gay, sure. Coming out as Captain America? Much more difficult.”

Tony finally picked his jaw up off the floor and looked around the room, regaining a sense of where he was. “A failed artist turned war criminal. Where have I heard that story before?” 

“I knew that I couldn’t trust you. The first person I tell and-“ Steve was cut off. 

“No, in all seriousness?”

“What?”

Tony struggled to contain his laughter. “Captain America is the gayest shit.”

This broke the tension. A lot. Every grievance that Steve had ever had with the job was understood. It was free rein to rant about anything he wanted without worrying about the SHIELD therapist reporting them back to everyone else.

“I know! You haven’t even seen half the shit they make me do.” He laughed, averting his eyes. He was guilty, sure, but his relief outweighed that. 

“And the suit-“

“You haven’t even been inside of it!” 

“Could they accentuate your ass any more?” Tony said through wheezing laughter. “Not that it’s not a great ass, but it isn’t exactly the focus of the role.”

“It absolutely is the focus of the role. It’s not as if they have me do anything else.” Steve shrugged. “Car commercials and small overseas missions. The suit might as well be foam and cotton.” 

“They make you look good, don’t get me wrong, but they also make you look unbelievably homosexual. I’ll make a sizeable donation towards diversifying your PR team if you want. Or I can spray you with a hose when you act too much like a bottom.”

“There are a lot of assumptions being thrown around at this table.” Steve furrowed his brow. 

“Well?” Tony retaliated, “are you not?” 

The waiter returned, taking both orders and then retreating back into the kitchen. 

Steve paused for a moment. “Moving on. I want to revisit your earlier comment.”

“That they make you look good?”

“Do you like it? Is it a thing? If I wore it for you sometime, would that be a turnoff? It would make sex a lot more convenient if I could just come over after missions. If you don’t mind me sweaty, that is.” Steve’s voice was exponentially lower, practically a growl in his throat. 

“I’m willing to try it.”

“And the thing you said about my ass? You mean it?”

“It’s a great ass. I do.” Tony laughed. “You’re ridiculous. Desperate for validation. This is a nice place, Steve, don’t make me bend you over the bathroom counter.” 

“Do we ever get to do it in private?” Steve joked, glancing at the ground. He was glad that the first part went over well, but there was still one more thing to break to Tony, and he knew that this one wouldn’t be as easy. “Tony? One more thing. About SHIELD.”

Tony nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Go ahead.”

Steve took in a deep breath, fully expecting to be punched. “I didn’t know it at the time, but the study was conducted by a Doctor Howard Stark. Known within the organization for tricking thousands of consumers into funding SHIELD’s experiments through his recalled heart medication. Experiments he conducted himself. Experiments he still conducts today.” 

Tony looked as if he was going to reach over the table and strangle him. “You’re going to bring me to him,” Tony’s voice was low, full of calculated rage, “and I’m going to kill that motherfucker myself.”


End file.
